"Connor, Grayson, Luke, and Alex have been giving you significant looks all evening," she says."And they keep glancing at your sporran like it contains state secrets."
I can barely swallow my champagne."That's ridiculous."
"Is it?"She tilts her head, studying me."You've been unusually jumpy too.Are you hiding something in there?"
"What would I possibly be hiding in traditional Scottish attire at a Halloween party?"
"I don't know," she says slowly."But I intend to find out."
The gleam in her eye sends a mixture of panic and exhilaration through me.
Before I can respond, we're interrupted by Alana appearing with a tablet.
"Sorry to disturb you," she says, not looking sorry at all, "but I thought you might want to see the latest social media update."
I take the tablet."What fresh hell is this?"
"Your Halloween kilt debut is trending," she explains."Already at twenty thousand reposts."
"Wonderful.Just what we need.More viral content."
"Actually, it's excellent timing," Alana counters."The Beyond Your Label Initiative launches next week.This keeps both of you in the public eye without any scandal attached."
"She's right," Karina says, scrutinizing the trending data."The sentiment is overwhelmingly positive.Look at these comments—people are celebrating how you've embraced the whole situation rather than hiding from it."
I scan the screen, surprised to find she's correct.
Rather than the objectification I'd feared, most posts express admiration for how we've transformed a potential career disaster into something meaningful.
"I still don't understand why people care what I wear," I grumble, though with less conviction than before.
"Because you represent something now," Karina explains gently."The ability to maintain dignity while not taking yourself too seriously.To be both professional and authentically human."
"All that from a kilt?"I raise an eyebrow.
"All that from how you handled becoming #KiltedCasanova.People love a redemption story, especially one with excellent legs."
I can't help but laugh, still amazed at how she can simultaneously tease and reassure me."Speaking of redemption, shall we head to the upper deck?There's something I want to show you."
Curiosity piqued, she follows me up the stairs to the yacht's uppermost level, which I've had specially prepared.
The space is illuminated only by candles and fairy lights, creating a private sanctuary above the party.
A small table holds champagne on ice and a plate of pomegranate seeds—a reference that makes her smile in recognition.
"What is all this?"she asks, taking in the romantic setup.
"Privacy.Something we've had precious little of since becoming viral sensations."
She moves to the railing, looking out over Seattle's twinkling skyline."It's beautiful up here."
"Yes," I agree, though I'm looking at her rather than the view.
"Callum," she says without turning, "what's really going on?You've been acting strange all evening."
I join her at the railing, gathering courage."Do you know what today is?"
"Halloween?Or is this a trick question?"
